Puzzle Pieces
by loveadubdub
Summary: A collection of moments set before the You Won't Find Heart and Soul in the Stars/Another Day in Paradise universe.
1. Broken

**PUZZLE PIECES**

**Broken**

**...**

**...**

…

The church is packed.

He's never been here before, and he's not sure that the building can hold all of the people from the cars in the parking lot. His dad drives around forever before he finally finds a place to squeeze his car in between two others at the edge of the playground dirt. All that driving just gives Sam a good excuse for why he can't go in, but he doesn't say anything, and when the car's finally parked, he pushes his door open and manages to squeeze himself out.

He feels uncomfortable. The suit is too hot, and even though it's only April, the sun is beating down brightly. It doesn't match the setting at all, and he's pretty sure there should be clouds in the sky and probably rain because a beautiful sunny spring day isn't supposed to be happening. Not today. Not when there's a nineteen year old girl lying dead in a casket waiting to be buried.

His mom puts a hand on his back and sort of guides him toward the church doors. His dad walks behind them, and nobody says anything. There's nothing to say really. This is the worst thing, and he doesn't want to hear anything anyway. He feels like he's in a daze walking toward that church, but his mom never moves her hand, and somehow they finally make it inside.

There are way too many people in here. They're spilling out of the sanctuary and into the lobby- filling benches and stairs and standing around in small groups. There's a book by the door for people to sign and show that they were there to offer condolences. Sam watches his mom sign it, but he refuses to put his name in it. He doesn't know what the point of it is to begin with, but he really has no desire to have his name associated with this in any way. He doesn't want to be here.

He passes a group of Julia's friends who are all huddled in a group by the corner. Some of them are crying, and they all look really upset. He can feel their eyes on him, though, but when he looks over and catches them staring, they all just look away. He doesn't acknowledge them any further than that, and he seriously hopes they just leave him the hell alone. He doesn't want to make small talk with a bunch of girls who he's always thought were pretty fake anyway. He's pretty sure they only ever pretended to like him to his face and that they probably talked all kinds of shit behind his back. Even if they didn't, it's not like he has a reason to be nice to them anymore, so he hopes they just leave him alone.

The line to get to the front of the church reaches all the way back to the sanctuary door. It's protocol or whatever to stand in that line and offer condolences to the people at the front. Sam doesn't care to offer them condolences- he doesn't care to ever speak to them again. In his heart, he really feels like he hates them, and that scares him a little bit. But he's so angry, and he can't forgive. And if they hate him anyway, he should just return the favor. He doesn't do much more than just glance up to the front where he can see Mr. and Mrs. Fischer and a few other people accepting hugs and talking to the people who make their way through the line. He also sees the white casket lying open behind them, and he instantly feels like he might puke. He doesn't get in line. He just sits down on one of the back pews and lets his own parents fall in silently behind him.

He doesn't speak to them or anyone else while he sits there. They talk to each other a little bit, heads ducked and whispering things he really can't hear and doesn't really care to. They don't try to force him to make conversation, and he just sits there staring at the floor and wondering how any part of this is actually real. It doesn't make sense, none of it does, and he feels like he's trapped in the middle of some nightmare where he can't wake up no matter how many times he pinches himself. He gets really annoyed when two girls from Julia's sorority come up to him and say hi because why can't they see that he just wants to be left alone? He barely acknowledges them, but his mom does her best to cover his rudeness and make small talk with them. They tell her they're really sorry, and she just gives them a small smile and says thank you on his behalf.

He wouldn't say thank you if he was up to saying anything at all.

The line never gets any shorter. More and more people cycle through, and he wonders if half of these people have ever even _met _Julia. He's never seen more than a handful of them, so he wonders if the rest actually have any real connection to her or not. None of them have the connection he has to her, he knows that for damn sure. Nobody else in this room ever created another freaking human being with her. Fuck them all if they think that's not important. He's not waiting in their stupid line.

He gets up without saying a word to his parents, and he squeezes past them to the middle aisle. He feels his mom's hand on his arm when he passes her, and one of his parents says something. He doesn't hear what, though, and he doesn't care. He just keeps walking, and when he gets to the aisle, he pushes his way through the crowded line until he gets all the way up to the front of the church. He makes eye contact with Mrs. Fischer for about the longest five seconds ever. She stares at him, but she doesn't say anything. She's not going to make a scene, and he knows it. He doesn't even bother looking at her husband or any of the other people up there because the only person he wants to see is right in front of him.

The small crowd around the casket seems to disappear almost instantly. People back away and leave him by himself. He has no idea if those people know who he is, but they obviously saw him just bust through the line, so they're not going to contribute to the half-scene he's already made. So it's just him, and it takes him a million seconds before he finally gets up the balls to look.

This girl isn't Julia.

It's the first thing he thinks when he finally looks down and sees the girl lying on all that white silk. Julia is a billion times prettier than this girl. Julia is beautiful. This girl doesn't even look real. Her skin is too white, and there's too much makeup. He knows it's to cover up bruises and cuts, but Julia never wears that much makeup. She thinks that much makeup looks trashy. The lips are red, and Julia never wears red lipstick. She mostly just uses lipbalm, and if she adds color, it's always a dusty pink. It's never red. She also never wears that much eye makeup, but why would she need to? Her eyes are gorgeous- they don't need any help.

The hair is all wrong. It's very obviously a wig, and it's not even a good one. He knows her head was shaved for an operation that didn't work, but this wig is terrible. It's blonde, but it's not the right shade. And it's too full at the top. That's not how Julia's hair has ever looked, and he hates it. Her nails are wrong, too. They're painted a light pink, and he knows that's new. He knows it because Julia's nails were bright blue that day. She asked him if it was too bright when she met him for lunch, and they joked about it. Somebody changed them. Why did they do that? Whose job is it to give dead people fresh manicures? If she wanted her nails to be blue, they should be blue. Why did they have to mess it up?

The only thing that's right is her dress. It's the yellow sundress she bought in the dead of winter. She said it was her motivation to lose the baby weight. She was going to fit into it by spring, and it was going to look awesome. Apparently she accomplished every bit of that.

He looks at her neck and sees a tiny silver cross. He's never seen it before, and it might be new. But it's not what she wore every day. For the past year almost, she's worn a silver necklace with a scripted J for the charm. He gave it to her for her nineteenth birthday, and she's worn it nonstop almost every day. She should be wearing it now, and he's irrationally pissed that she isn't. But this girl isn't Julia, and he keeps telling himself that over and over.

Because his Julia would never look like this girl.

He feels sick before he knows it, and his head starts swimming. He feels dizzy and like he might throw up or pass out. Without thinking, he grips the edge of the casket, mostly just to keep himself from falling over because he seriously starts seeing spots in front of his eyes. And when the spots clear up, he realizes that he's looking through tears. He hasn't cried yet, but he can't stop it now. This isn't supposed to be happening, and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. So he just cries.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back, and he knows without looking that it's his dad. He lets go of the casket and turns around to immediately bury his face in his dad's shoulder. Maybe he should be embarrassed, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care if everyone is staring at him because fuck them. They don't know how he feels.

His dad hugs him and lets him cry for a little while, and then he puts a hand on the side of his head and whispers, "Let's go," in a voice other people probably can't hear. He keeps a protective arm around Sam as he leads them back up the church aisle, and Sam keeps his head ducked because he doesn't want to look at any of the million people who are watching him while he still cries. When they get to the back, though, his parents do a trade-off, and Sam goes straight into his mom's arms. It's crazy how the second he's got his face hidden in her shoulder, he goes from crying to sobbing. He can't even make himself feel like an idiot for crying in his mommy's arms because all he wants to do is literally crawl in her lap and let her rock him to sleep. He can't, of course, but he does let her hug him and lead him back out into the lobby.

She's petting his hair and kisses the side of his head when she gets him over to a bench and sits him down. "Baby, you need to breathe," she whispers calmly, pulling back just a little bit when she squats down in front of him. She holds his face in both of her hands and tries to make him look at her. "Breathe, okay?"

He tries to listen and do what she says, but it's hard. It's hard because there's no air in his lungs, and all he wants to do is get the hell out of here. He's never had a panic attack, but he wonders if that's what's happening. He's never felt like this before- never in all the bullshit he's had to deal with over the years has he ever felt like _this. _This is the worst he's ever felt in his entire life, and he can't handle it. He's not strong enough, and he doesn't even want to be.

He can't force himself to keep eye contact with his mom because he feels guilty for freaking her out like this. He can look at her and tell she's scared, wondering if he's going to choke or give himself a heart attack or something. He's still crying because he can't stop, but he tries to breathe the best he can. He focuses at a TV somewhere behind his mom's shoulder. It's set up to play a kind of slide show or something- all pictures of Julia, from the time she was a baby all the way up until now. He's seen some of them, some are new to him. He's not in any of them, though. She's with her family, or she's with her friends. Never with him. Like he was never a part of her life at all or something. Like they didn't create a freaking _human being _together. He recognizes some of the pictures because _he _took them, and whoever put this together must have raided her Facebook or something. There are lots of pictures of Julia and Jake, and he can't stop staring at them, even though it makes breathing even harder.

What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to do all of this by himself? He can't. He needs her, and _Jake _needs her. It's not fair. A little baby shouldn't have to grow up without his mother- it's just wrong. And he can't do it by himself. He knows he can't. He shouldn't _have _to.

He looks back at his mom and only half chokes on his words when he says, "I want to go see Jake."

She nods. "We will. As soon as this over, we'll go see him."

But he just shakes his head. "No, I want to see him now." Forcing words out is hard because he's still not breathing right, but he's not crying as hard now. "I don't want to be here."

His mom gets up and sits down beside him. She once again hugs him, running one hand over his back while the other one cradles the back of his head. "I know, honey. But you need to do this, okay? You need to be strong. For Julia."

He squeezes his eyes closed. How can he be strong for Julia? He can't do anything for Julia. He couldn't save her. He can't bring her back. She's gone, and he doesn't want to be here. But he knows his mom is right. He _has _to. She'd never forgive him if he left now, and he knows it.

Even if no one else acknowledges it, she loved him. And she'd want him here.

There are whispers when he goes back to the sanctuary, and he knows some people are staring. He ignores them, and he sits down tucked between both of his parents. He feels like a little kid, but he doesn't care. The parade of people eventually dies down, and the service starts. Sam's not sure he even comprehends a single word of it. He's not listening, and the only time he pays attention is when the pastor has everyone bow their heads to pray. He feels numb as he looks down at his lap and hears the monotone voice of an old man asking Jesus to take care of this beautiful girl who "went home too soon." He wonders if anyone else in the church finds the irony in asking Jesus to take care of Julia when he's sure every single one of them spent four days praying for her to get better. He did at least. He's never prayed so hard for anything in his entire life. He begged, pleaded, and tried to bargain everything he had, and it didn't work.

So why should anyone believe it will work now?

"And Lord, please, we ask that you watch over this baby who has lost his mother far too quickly. Help him as he grows to understand your will. And watch over his grandparents and family as they take care of him and raise him with his mother's memory."

Sam's head actually snaps up then, and he doesn't even pretend to be praying. He looks over at his dad who is watching him from the corner of his eye. All he gets from him, though, is a small shake of the head that's just barely noticeable. His dad puts an arm around him and squeezes his shoulder a little bit, and Sam knows that's his sign to just stay calm and stay strong. But he hates this. Once again, he doesn't even exist. They're talking about _his son, _and it's like he's not even there. It's not fair, and he doesn't know whether to punch someone or start crying again.

Instead, he just blocks out the entire rest of the service.

…

He sits in the backseat while his dad drives them to the cemetery.

There's a giant line of cars, and they're stuck somewhere in the middle. Everyone is driving so slowly, but Sam's okay with that because he's not in any kind of hurry to get there. He feels seriously sick, like he could puke any second or something. He just wants this to be over, but he's not even close to being ready for it.

He's not really paying attention to whatever conversation his parents are having, but little parts of it go in and out of his ears. Mostly, he just stares out the window at the street as they drive along slowly. His head hurts, and he's basically using all of his strength to just focus on forcing himself to not throw up. This is the worst day of his life, and he's never felt as terrible as he does right now.

He really, really doesn't like cemeteries. They creep him out, and he always has bad feelings in them. The sun's still shining just as brightly as it was earlier, though, so it's kind of deceiving. He's only been to a handful of funerals in his life, but there are way more people at this graveside service than he's ever seen before. Of course, there were way more people at the funeral, too.

After they park, he walks with his parents and the million other people up to the little tent that's set up. There are only maybe twenty chairs, so most people are standing. He does his best to stay as close to the back as possible because he doesn't want to be close to any of this. The casket's carried over and put into place. It's closed now, and it makes him sick to think it's never going to be opened again. No one can ever see her again. He instantly regrets freaking out at the funeral because he didn't even get a good final look at her. Even if she looked nothing like herself, that was his last chance ever, and it's gone.

Tears are already starting to well up in his eyes, but he keeps his sunglasses in place to hide them. His mom's got her hand back on his back, and she rubs little circles there. It's kind of dumb how it almost makes him feel a little better. She doesn't say anything, though, and he's glad for that because he doesn't think he could manage a conversation right now if he tried.

There's a lot of crying now- more than in the funeral. Mrs. Fischer looks like she's about to lose it, and Mr. Fischer's just sitting there staring into space with an expressionless face. Some women- one of them at least is Julia's aunt- are comforting Mrs. Fischer, but she seems almost inconsolable. It's very difficult to watch, and Sam does his best to ignore it and just stare at the ground. This time around, the pastor's a lot faster. He says a couple of prayers, and somebody gets up to sing a song that Sam doesn't know and barely even hears. He's not sure why she's singing when it's literally just causing people to cry even harder. Then there's one more prayer, and that's it. It's over. Just like that.

There's a lot of hugging afterward. People are crying into each other's shoulders and whispering to each other. Behind them, some men start lowering the casket into the ground, and several people watch. Mrs. Fischer starts _sobbing, _and her sister is having to literally hold her up. Sam doesn't know which is worse to see- that sobbing or Julia disappearing into the ground forever.

He just feels numb all over his body.

"Are you ready?" His dad puts another arm around his shoulder, and Sam looks at him and just nods because he doesn't know what else to do. He can look at both of his parents and tell they're scared to death and worried about him, and they're both looking at him like they're waiting for him to have another meltdown or something. He just wants to get out of here.

But they're interrupted before they even turn around to head back to the car. Mr. Fischer walks up to them, and Sam tenses up immediately. There's so much resentment inside of him that he's not even sure he can force up another round of condolences. As it turns out, though, Mr. Fischer isn't looking for condolence.

"I just wanted to let you know that we're speaking with an attorney." He just starts talking, and that expressionless face almost looks malicious now. "About Jacob."

Sam gets that sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach again. His mouth feels really dry, and he just chews on his lip for a few seconds until he finally gets up enough strength to say, "What about him?"

Mr. Fischer just levels him with that same look. "We're going to be asking for custody."

Sam's literally speechless. He has no idea how to reply to that or what to say in response. He just stands there, and then he hears himself stuttering. "You can't… I…"

"I'm sorry, but it's what's best for the baby. I just wanted to let you know." He's talking like he's at a business meeting or something, but Sam's still too dumbfounded to move.

His dad's not, though.

"Look, I'm sorry about Julia. I'm sorry any of this ever happened, and I know it's got to be terrible for you. But you don't need to take your anger out on my son. He doesn't deserve it." He sounds pissed, and Sam knows that he's obviously had that building for awhile because his dad's seen firsthand how they've been treating him.

Mr. Fischer doesn't falter, though. "It's not about your son. It's about my grandson and doing what's best for him."

"Jake's _my _grandson, too." Sam can tell his dad is struggling to keep his voice in check. "And taking him away from his father is _not _doing what's best for him."

"He can't take care of a baby alone."

"He'll have plenty of help. We'll make sure of that."

"What's best for Jake is to be raised by people who can afford to take care of him." Mr. Fischer actually goes there, and Sam once again can't decide whether he wants to knock him out or just throw up.

His dad's eyes narrow, and his voice is edged with anger that's about to boil over. Sam's heard that voice a few times, so he recognizes it easily. _"Excuse me?"_

"Dwight." And then it's his mom who steps in. She moves in front of Sam and takes his dad by the arm. "Just… Don't. Let's go."

He doesn't even seem to hear her. "I've learned a lot of things over the years, mainly that money doesn't mean _anything _when it comes down to it." His voice still has that tone, and he's gritting his teeth a little bit. "You need to leave my son alone." It's a warning more than anything else.

"_Dwight." _She repeats his name a little more firmly. "Let's go." He hears her then, and they have a wordless conversation for a few seconds. Finally, she turns back to Mr. Fischer and says in a dull voice. "I'm very sorry for your loss." She's pissed, too, but she's not going to make a scene at a funeral.

"We'll see you in court." It's the last thing his dad says before pulling away and walking back to the car. Sam watches him go, and his mom puts a protective arm around his waist and leads him off in the same direction.

His parents are talking as soon as they're in the car. His dad looks like he's ready to punch something, and his mom's mad, too, but she's doing a little bit better job of staying calm. Sam just sits in the backseat, still feeling nothing but numbness. He's so tired. Tired of everything. Everything's always shitty, and he's just tired of it.

"They can't do that." His mom buckles her seatbelt, while his dad looks over his shoulder to pull out. Sam can see that his knuckles are almost completely white because he's clutching the steering wheel so tightly.

"When we get to the hospital, you need to tell whoever's in charge that no one else is allowed to see Jake." His dad's eyeing him in the mirror and looks dead serious. "Get those people off the list."

"No, that's not what you need to do." His mom interrupts and shakes her head. "That's not right."

"They did it to him!" And now his dad's voice is like ten levels higher because he's so angry. "He should do it right back."

"Just because they did it doesn't mean we should stoop to their level. It won't help anything."

"That man is one of the worst people I've ever met in my entire life!"

"Stop it," and his mom's voice is quiet. "You can't know what he's going through. We shouldn't judge him."

"You're right, I don't know what he's going through. But I know that nothing gives him the right to just be an outright asshole, especially to a kid who never did a damn thing to him!"

Sam watches his mom let out a breathy sigh. She hates cussing, and his dad rarely does it because he knows it bothers her. Sam's only ever cussed in front of her once, and he learned his lesson super quickly to never do it again. Still, she doesn't come right out and complain about it right now. Instead, she does her best to keep control of the situation.

"We are not going to stoop to their level," she says firmly. "It's not worth it."

Sam just sits in the back and says nothing while his parents argue in the front seat. It's possible that they've forgotten he's even there. He should probably speak up and give his own opinion, but he doesn't feel like talking. Besides, he doesn't know what he's even _supposed _to be feeling. Mostly, he just feels sick- otherwise, he feels blank.

…

They stop and pick up the kids on the way to the hospital. One of his mom's old friends has been watching them off and on since they've been in town. They didn't take them to the funeral because it would have just been too much. They're not babies, but there was too much other stuff to deal with to think that taking them would be a good idea.

They're smiling when they get to the car, which feels weird because no one else has smiled all morning. Sam's not sure he'll ever smile again, honestly. He definitely doesn't feel like doing it now, but that doesn't stop Stacy from sliding into the backseat beside him and showing him her new score on Candy Crush. She seems super happy, so she must have just gotten past something that was tripping her up before or something because she seems totally oblivious to the fact that everyone else is upset. Stevie trails in behind her, but he doesn't have much to say, which isn't shocking because he's twelve, and twelve year olds never have much to say- at least nothing nice.

Sam makes a decision that he's not going to cry in front of his siblings, and even though his eyes still feel wet behind his sunglasses, he forces them to dry up before they get to the hospital. Nobody really talks on the drive over, nobody except Stacy anyway. She's still bent over her tablet playing her game, but she has something to say every few seconds because she's literally incapable of being quiet for very long. She whines a little bit when they pull into the parking garage because she realizes where they are.

"It's so _boring," _and she pouts like she's five and not ten. "And we'll be here _forever."_

Sam doesn't even acknowledge her, and he's only semi-surprised to see his mom turn around and shoot her a warning look. "Hush," she says seriously. "Nobody wants to hear it."

"But it's _true! _We're always here-"

She gets cut off when her mom holds out her hand. "Give it to me." There's no room in her voice for argument, and Sam's sure Stacy knows it just as well as he does because she hands over her tablet and goes back to pouting silently. "I don't want to hear another word about it. Got it?"

Stacy just nods, but she looks pissed. Sam can't really make himself feel too sorry for her because she's getting on his damn nerves. Although, he's not really sure that taking her tablet away right before they go into the hospital is a good idea because it'll make her even worse. There's no way she can just sit still and be quiet with nothing to distract her. Obviously his mom's on the same train of thought because she puts it in her purse instead of leaving it in the car.

When they get inside, they take the elevator up to the PICU, and his dad stays in the waiting room with Stevie and Stacy while Sam and his mom wash up and go back into the unit. They haven't been here since last night, so they get a quick briefing at the nurses' station before they head over to Jake's bed. The nurse says everything's still the same. He's still breathing fine on his own and digesting everything fine. She says as far as they can tell everything is still healing on course, so they're just watching him to make sure everything stays on the right track. There's no amazing news or anything, but there's nothing negative, so Sam's willing to take what he can get.

They go back to the plastic bassinet that's been Jake's home for the past week. Most of the kids here are older, and there are only a couple of babies. It makes their tiny beds glaringly obvious against the ones for the other kids. Jake is sleeping, just like he almost always is. The bandage is still covering his head, but other than that, he looks totally different than he did a week ago. The ventilator is gone, and there's just a tiny oxygen tube in his nose. A lot of the bruising has gone down, and it's hard to look at him and believe that his car seat was slammed forward from the impact of the seat in front of it slamming backwards during the wreck. The cuts are still there, but they're stitched up and don't look nearly as bad as they did before.

His mom immediately puts a hand in front of his nose to feel his breathing, and when she's satisfied that it's okay, she wants to know why Jake's legs are so dry. Sam can't really tell a difference, but his mom says they look dried out and flaky. She says he needs some lotion, and Sam tries really hard not to roll his eyes when she calls one of the nurses over.

"Did he have a bath today?"

The nurse, Kelly, checks the chart at the end of Jake's bed and flips through it. "He had one… last night at 8."

"Did they forget to moisturize him? Look at his legs. The last thing he needs is to be itching at dry skin and scratch himself even more."

Kelly smiles in a way much more patiently than Sam would. "I can get some lotion."

She starts to leave, but Sam stops her. "Can I hold him?"

It's awful having to ask permission to hold his own son, but he has to. Sometimes it's okay, and sometimes they say no- it just depends on however Jake's been doing that day and if they've done any new tests. For the first two days after the accident, he couldn't hold him at all. He was barely allowed to even touch him because they didn't know what kind of trauma his body might have. But they did an exploratory surgery and fixed a little bit of bleeding, and other than some scrapes and bruises, he seems totally fine. The doctors even seem surprised and have told Sam over and over again that Jake's extremely lucky.

Kelly smiles again and nods. "Sure. He's been fine all morning. Just be careful of his oxygen tube and use a blanket."

She disappears, and Sam's already grabbing one of the blankets from underneath the cot. Jake's bed is warmed, but when he's out of it, he gets cold, considering he's naked except for a diaper. Sam and his mom carefully wrap him up, and then Sam lifts him out of his bed while his mom manages to keep the nose tube in place. Once they're situated, he sits down with him in one of the chairs and just looks at him.

Jake's asleep, like almost always. The medicine they've got him on pretty much keeps him that way on purpose because it's easier for babies to heal when they aren't constantly moving around and grabbing at the stuff that's supposed to make them better. It's also easier because he's feeling a lot less pain being asleep than he does while he's awake. He's getting a lot better now, but he spent the first few days _screaming _every time he was awake.

He's just sleeping now, though, with his head tucked into the corner of Sam's elbow. It's crazy how little he looks now when a week ago, Sam couldn't believe how big he was getting. Obviously he hasn't shrunk or anything, but he just looks tiny. Sam feels better when he's holding Jake, not as numb or something. It's really weird, and he wonders if that's normal. But just looking down at him, it makes him think that maybe everything's not completely as shitty as he really feels like it is.

But what is he supposed to do?

He's poor and useless, and there's no way he can do this on his own. He isn't smart enough or strong enough. Jake's life has barely even started, and it's already ruined. And that's not fair. He wonders if Jake knows that Julia's gone- like if he can feel it or whatever. How long will it take him to forget that she even existed? He's going to have no memory of her whatsoever. That thought makes his throat feel tight, and he swallows heavily so that he can make the lump go away.

"I'm going to go back and check on your dad and the kids." His mom interrupts his thoughts after awhile, and he can tell she's just doing it to give him some alone time. She leans over and kisses Jake's forehead and then kisses his own and tells him to take his time before she leaves.

He just stares at Jake for a really long time, wondering how things will turn out and not knowing and being scared to death because he doesn't even know what the rest of today's going to bring, much less the rest of forever. There's a part of him that's terrified that he can't do it, and maybe Mr. Fischer was right. Maybe giving him up is what's best for Jake… But he's all Sam has left in the world. Literally. This tiny little baby is the only thing he has left, and he doesn't know if he can handle losing anything else. But is that selfish?

He closes his eyes and tries to hear Julia. He tries so hard, waiting for her to give him some kind of answer. She knows more about what's best for Jake than anyone does, and he just wants her to just tell him the answer like she used to do in the freshman psych class where they met. But he doesn't hear anything besides the buzzing and beeping and murmuring of the PICU. He definitely doesn't hear Julia because she's currently under six feet of dirt, and no one will ever see her or hear her ever again.

"It's time for him to eat." Sam's eyes fly open, and Kelly's back. She's got the promised lotion and a bottle of formula. "Do you want to feed him?"

He nods and swallows, not really trusting his voice right now.

"Okay. Let me just get this on him." She sets the bottle on the stool and then carefully reaches for Jake's blanket and unfolds it so that she can rub some lotion onto his skin. "How's your morning been?" She smiles at Sam and tries to make small talk because that's what nurses always do because they seem to think it's awkward if everyone just sits around and says nothing.

"It's been okay." He leaves it at that. It's been anything but okay, but he doesn't feel like talking about it, especially with someone he barely even knows.

"It's been pretty quiet around here for once." She removes Jake's blanket altogether and sets it back in his bed. Then she puts a hand to his stomach and starts rubbing there and under his neck. She pinches him just a little bit right under his neck and says, "Let's wake up, buddy," in this soothing kind of voice that's apparently supposed to wake him up from his medicine-induced sleep. It doesn't work, of course, but when she leans over Sam and moves Jake to a sitting position, his eyes actually do start to flutter. "We need to wake up and eat," she tells him, but Jake gives no recognition that he hears or cares that it's time to eat. Instead, he just gets pissed and starts whimpering. Kelly's right on it, though, and she immediately grabs the bottle of formula and puts it to his lips. It only takes a few seconds before Jake decides that he actually is hungry and starts eating, and then Sam takes over on holding the bottle.

"Should he eat this whole thing?"

"If he wants it." Kelly grabs his file and writes something down in it. "His stomach is still sort of upset from the meds, so he might not finish all of it. If he does, that's great, though. Just try not to let him fall back asleep until he's done at least half of it, and make sure he burps."

The whole thing reminds Sam of when Jake was first born, and they had to set alarms to wake him up and make him eat. That only lasted a couple of days, though, because he definitely knew when he was hungry after that. Now, though, it's like he's a newborn all over because he's so drugged up that he basically won't wake up on his own no matter what, so they have to force him to do it and to eat. Luckily, this should all be over soon, though. Last night, the doctor said he was almost ready to go home and that they were basically just keeping him around for final observation. Sam hopes that's true.

Kelly leaves after that, and Sam works on keeping Jake alert enough to eat some of his bottle. They stare at each other, and all Sam can see are Julia's eyes. It's crazy how she and Jake are so identical in that. Jake grabs at his ear while he eats, and Sam wonders if it hurts or if it's just him needing something to do with his hands. He offers up his pinky instead, and Jake grabs onto it while the rest of his hand is used to steady the bottle. It's crazy how Jake is so oblivious to everything that's going on, and Sam kind of envies him just a little bit. He doesn't look sad or worried or scared. He just looks hungry and sort of sleepy. He doesn't know his whole life has been changed, and he doesn't know that the whole world is basically just full of shit.

"Everything's gonna be okay." Sam whispers to him, and Jake just stares at him. "I promise."

He's lying because nothing feels like it's going to be okay ever again. But it's his job to make sure Jake doesn't know that, right? He used to tell Stevie and Stacy that everything was fine when they were homeless and living in a roach motel. That was his job- to make sure they didn't know it was as bad as it really was. Now it's his job for Jake, too. Even if he has to lie, he has to make sure he doesn't know how bad it actually is.

"Everything's gonna be fine…"

He really wishes he could lie to himself like that.

…

They bring Jake home two days later, and within a week, the apartment is packed up and ready to go.

It's mostly a blur to Sam. He spends a lot (most) of the time alone in his room. He doesn't do anything- just lies in bed and stares or, if he's lucky, sleeps a lot. His mom stays with him the whole time, but his dad and the kids are around a lot, too. The apartment's tiny, so he can hear everything that's going on, and he knows that his parents are obviously trying to cut him some slack because they spend a lot of time telling his brother and sister to leave him alone.

His dad pays the penalty to break his lease, and Sam doesn't know where he gets the money. It's not cheap, but he finds it from somewhere and forks it over. His mom calls the school and tells them he's unenrolling. At first she tries to get him to at least stick it out for the rest of the semester and take his exams, but he's already missed so much that it's pointless. He's already failed most of his classes, so withdrawing is actually helping him a little. It doesn't matter anyway. It's not like he's ever going to go back.

He wakes up one day because his mom knocks on his door. He doesn't answer her and just pretends to be asleep because he doesn't feel like talking or seeing anyone. He can't hear Jake screaming, so he knows he's okay. Other than that, he can't really think of a reason to get out of bed. His mom doesn't seem to care, though, and when he doesn't answer, she just comes in on her own.

"Sam, you need to get up."

He says nothing.

"I know you're not asleep. I can tell when you're faking. Now get up."

He opens his eyes and makes sure not to say the stuff out loud that's currently in his head. His mom's standing by his bed, and she sets a box down beside him.

"This is everything of Julia's I could find. You need to take it to her parents." He looks at the box and says nothing. "If there's something you want or want to keep for Jake, then I think that's fine. Go through it, and when you're finished, we can take it to her parents."

She doesn't say anything else, and she shuts the door behind her when she leaves. He just stares at the box for a long time before he finally sits up. There's a part of him that doesn't want to touch any of it, but there's another part of him that wants to keep the entire thing because it's all he has left.

Julia didn't live here, but she might as well have. She spent most of her time here and stayed here more nights than not. Technically, she lived with her parents. Jake's nursery is at their house- his crib and changing table and glider rocker… All of that stuff is at the Fischers'. The only thing in Sam's apartment is a Pack and Play that doubles as a bed and a couple of play mats. But he's always stayed here more than he has there. That nursery is barely used, and everything in it is practically brand new.

Sam starts pulling things out of the box and going through them. It's mostly clothes- jeans, shoes, underwear… There are a few pieces of jewelry, but her J necklace isn't there. It wouldn't be, though, because she wore it all the time, and he's sure it's with the rest of the things she was wearing when the accident happened. A couple of her schoolbooks are in here- statistics and literature. The rest were probably in the trunk of her car. There's a plastic bag tucked in there with some lotion and some bodyspray and a bottle of perfume… It's all just everyday stuff that seems so dumb until he realizes that this is literally all that's left of her.

He takes the perfume out of the bag and smells it. He feels his eyes get wet almost immediately. The smell hits him like a ton of bricks, and it's so freaking _familiar… _He never even realized how distinct it was before, but it's like she's right in front of him. Like if he closes his eyes and tries, he can pretend that she's right there. He can't stop smelling it as he digs through the rest of the box, and when he finally finds what he's looking for, he has to force himself not to actually start crying.

He wants her Cinderella t-shirt. It's dumb, but it was her favorite. She wore it to bed almost every night, and that didn't stop when she was super pregnant and could barely fit in it. She got it at Disneyworld when she was like fifteen or something, and she loved it. She used to talk about how soft the fabric was, and he never paid much attention because t-shirt fabric and stuff like that didn't mean anything to him, and it's not like he cared that much. He wishes he had listened more, though, now that he's holding it. Because it's softer than any other shirt he's ever seen. He puts the rest of the stuff back in the box and moves it to the floor.

Without thinking, he sprays a tiny bit of her perfume on the pillow she used to sleep on, and he lays down with the bottle and with that t-shirt. He breathes it in and closes his eyes, and he holds the shirt the way little kids hold security blankets. He doesn't care how stupid it is.

He feels better than he has in weeks.

…

He takes Jake by himself, and they go to the Fischers' to drop Julia's things off.

He's ridiculously nervous when he knocks on the door, and he half-expects someone to look out the window and purposely ignore him. It doesn't happen, though, and Mrs. Fischer opens the door and just looks at him.

"This…" He doesn't really know what to say. "All of this is Julia's." It actually hurts saying her name out loud, and he looks down at the box he's holding to keep the hit off of his face. Mrs. Fischer doesn't say anything, so he swallows and a little and says, "Can I bring it in?"

She looks like she wants to tell him no, but then she eventually holds the door open for him. He looks down at the baby carrier by his feet, and she takes the hint and picks Jake up and brings him inside. Sam feels weird standing in the entryway, so he's glad when she leads him to the living room. He's never felt very comfortable in this house, and that's even more evident now.

"You can set that on the table." She nods toward the coffee table, and Sam sets the box down. His arms are starting to hurt a little, so he's glad to put it down. Mrs. Fischer ignores him momentarily as she sits down on the sofa with the carrier and lifts Jake out. He only gives a small whimper when she moves him from the comfort of his seat, but he quiets down when she balances him on her knees. She just stares at him for what feels like a very long time, but when he gives her a tiny smile, she returns it.

Sam gets the feeling it's the first time she's smiled in awhile.

"How is he?" she asks, moving Jake up to her shoulder so she can rub his back.

"He's good." Sam tries to make his voice sound normal. "He gets the last of his stitches out tomorrow."

"Is he sleeping well?"

Sam's honestly not really sure. His mom's been watching Jake at night, so he really has no idea how often he's up and down. He makes up an answer anyway. "Usually. He gets up sometimes, but it's mostly just normal…"

There's a lot of silence after that. Sam feels really awkward, mostly because he knows he's not welcome here. But he came here with a purpose, and he might as well get to it.

"We're moving," he finally says. "To Kentucky. With my family."

He expects some sort of protest- more threats about taking Jake away or something. All he gets, though, is more silence. Mrs. Fischer just sits there holding Jake and rubbing his back. She's just starting into space, and Sam kind of thinks she's not even hearing him. Finally, though, she answers him.

"When?"

"Tuesday." He chews on his lip. "We can't… We can't stay here."

She doesn't say anything.

"I just… wanted to tell you." He feels nervous, which is dumb, but he can't help it. He swallows and tries to keep his voice even. He's been practicing in his head what he wants to say, but none of it's coming out right. "Please don't come after Jake."

She looks at him then, and he feels even more nervous. He didn't really mean to just come out and say it like that, but he can't help it. That's how he feels, and that's what's he came here to say. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about Mr. Fischer threatening to take Jake, and he just knows he can't let that happen. No matter what.

Sam feels like his eyes are burning, but he refuses to acknowledge them. Instead, he just tells the honest truth because he doesn't know what else to say. "Please? He's all I have left…"

He expects more silence, and he doesn't know how to respond when Mrs. Fischer answers with, "And what do we have left?" She isn't being hateful, and her voice is quiet. He knows it's a serious question, but he doesn't have an answer.

"Please…" he says again, and he lets his voice drift because he doesn't trust it completely right now.

"You better take care of this baby." She turns her head again and looks down at Jake who has fallen asleep against her shoulder. She stares at him for a few seconds and dips her neck to kiss the top of his head.

"I will," he promises, wondering if this is actually working. "I swear."

She doesn't say anything after that. She just keeps rubbing those circles on Jake's back until she _finally _lays him back in his carrier. Sam sits there in the awkward silence, and when she fastens the straps of the baby carrier, he wonders if that's his cue to leave. If it is, he wants to get one last request in.

"I…" His voice is all wavery again, and he wonders if he should even ask. He's not sure it's his place, and even though there's some kind of silent agreement here about Jake, he's not at all positive that it's the opening for anything else. Still, he wants to try. He _needs _it. "I got Julia a necklace last year… It has a J on it. I know…" He swallows. "I know she was wearing it… that day." Mrs. Fischer is standing up and just looks at him. It's really dumb how scared he is. "Can I have it?"

She just stares at him, and he can see her eyes start to water. Her jaw actually trembles a little bit, and she doesn't say anything. Finally, her head moves just a tiny bit- side to side. She's saying no.

Sam wants to throw something. He doesn't, though. He just gets up and picks the baby carrier up off the couch. He wants to get out of here. He doesn't look at Mrs. Fischer at all while he heads to the door. She follows him, and he's actually surprised to hear her say something behind him.

"Do you want any of the baby's things?"

He just shakes his own head and doesn't turn around. He wants to give some smartass reply about how he can buy his own shit for his kid, but he doesn't. Mostly because he doesn't trust his voice at all. So he just mumbles, "Bye," and opens the door and goes back to his car. He snaps Jake into the back and gets into the driver's seat without looking back to the house.

His eyes are burning as he turns around and drives away from the Fischers', and he feels like he might throw up. He's not sure what he expected- he shouldn't have expected anything. They hate him. They always have, and he's sure they always will. They'll never give him anything.

It seems like it takes ten years to get to civilization, and when he does, he pulls into the nearest gas station and drives over to the side of the parking lot. He puts the car in park and leans around the seat to look back at Jake. He's still sleeping, and Sam lets out a shaky breath he didn't even realize he was holding. Then he shuts his eyes and leans his head back against the seat.

If he does anything else, he'll start crying, and he's not going to do that anymore.

…

It's weird to be back in Kentucky. He's never felt like this was his home, and he really only actually lived here for a few months and a couple of summers. But now he's back, and he'll probably be here for awhile because he literally has nowhere else to go.

He and his little brother shared a room when he lived here, but he can't move an infant into Stevie's room- it's not fair. He also can't just kick his little brother out of his own room, either, because that would be pretty shitty all around. So instead, his dad helps him clean out the little office, and they move a bed and Jake's Pack n Play into it, and that's his room now. It's seriously tiny, and it sucks. But there's nowhere else.

Whatever, though. He doesn't even care. It's not like the size of his room matters- it's not a like a bigger bedroom is going to make him stop feeling like shit or make his girlfriend come back to life. He tries really hard to push all of that away, but he can't. It's not getting any easier, no matter how many days pass. He still feels it every second of every day, and all he wants to do is just be alone in his bed so that he can throw his own private pity party. He doesn't even care how dumb that makes him sound.

He's constantly exhausted. No matter how long he sleeps or how long he just lies around and literally does nothing, he's still tired. He has no motivation to do anything at all, and he's lucky he can even force himself to get up and go pee. For the most part, everyone just leaves him alone. His parents don't bug him too much, and they even manage to keep his siblings away usually. It sucks and probably makes him a really crappy parent, but he doesn't even feel too concerned with the fact that his parents have Jake more than he does. He's scared to admit it, but sometimes Jake is the most painful thing of all, and it's just easier if his mom and dad take care of him.

They don't say much about it, but he knows they're probably silently judging him. He wonders how long they'll let it go on like this before one of them snaps and tells him off for being a shitty father. They don't have to tell him- he already knows. But it's hard, and moving away from Tennessee didn't make it any easier.

He finally goes downstairs for dinner on the third night after they get back. His family's probably surprised to see him, but they don't come out and say it. His mom just puts an extra plate down at the table, and they all sent down around it. Jake's asleep in his bouncer, and they've got a clear view of him in the connecting living room, but everyone else is at the table and ready for the requisite prayer that has always come before every meal for as long as Sam can remember. He bows his head right along with the rest of his family, but he doesn't pay much attention as his mom asks the Lord to bless their food and all the other stuff that's somehow supposed to show their thanks. He's still not in the mood to pray, and he's kind of not sure that he ever will be again because no matter what, he's always going to know in the back of his head that the one time he prayed the hardest for something that really truly mattered nothing happened.

They all start filling their plates up after that, and Sam realizes that he actually _is _pretty hungry. He's only eaten a little bit of whatever his mom's been bringing him over the past few days. He's not sure he won't be sick, though, so he doesn't overdo it when he's serving himself. Nobody makes a big deal about him being there, and he's glad for that because the last thing he wants is somebody looking at him like he's out of place at his own family's dinner table. They all just talk about normal stuff- he hears about Stevie needing a new iPod because his won't hold a charge, and he hears about Stacy's upcoming soccer season and how she's planning on being the star this year. And it all just feels really normal.

Except it's not normal.

Nothing is normal anymore, and even though everybody else can go on pretending like it is, he can't. He can't because he still feels like he's choking to death from all the hurt that's still smothering him. He's never really felt like this before, and it kind of scares him. But he can't help it. He can't make himself stop feeling it, even if he's worried that it might never get any better.

He ends up eating more than he has since they've been back to Kentucky, maybe more than he has since Julia died. It's no big shock that his stomach kind of feels like it's revolting against him, but he sips on some water and tries to physically will it to calm down and stop being so sick. He doesn't say much during dinner, but nobody bugs him about it or calls him out on it. And when they're done, nobody snaps at him to help with cleanup when he gets up and heads back to his room. His mom does stop him for a second, though, and she picks a now crying Jake up out of his bouncer and hands him over.

"I think he needs a diaper."

Apparently that's his cue to take care of his kid or something, so Sam takes him back to his room and lays him down on the bed while he grabs a diaper and some wipes from the top drawer of the dresser. Jake's still crying, and he just screams a little bit louder when Sam starts changing him. It feels like going through the motions almost, and Sam blocks out his screaming while he cleans him up and puts a fresh diaper on him. He doesn't bother putting his pants back on and just leaves him in the diaper and onesie while he throws the dirty diaper into the trashcan in the corner. He'll have to remember to take it out later because otherwise, his room is gonna stink really terrible. He's too tired (lazy) to do it right now, though, so he just leaves it and goes back to his bed where Jake's now chewing on his pinky and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"Is white paint really that interesting?"

Jake gives no indication that he even hears him, and obviously he doesn't understand. He just keeps staring, and Sam sighs a little bit and lies down beside him. He looks up at the ceiling, too, and just stares at it. It's almost mesmerizing, and he feels his eyes start to cross a little bit. He feels like he's looking for something that's not there.

Maybe he is.

…

Jake is screaming.

Sam hears him, but he's too tired to get up and do anything about it. He's all the way on the other side of the room, and chances are that there's nothing really wrong. He screams all the time, and usually it's just because he likes hearing the sound of his own voice or something. Sam's pretty good at blocking him, and he just sort of feels sick and not like he really wants to get up and deal with it.

He's the worst parent ever.

Obviously his own parent agrees because his mother comes barging into the room and goes straight over to the Pack n Play. "Are you deaf and can't hear him or what?" She picks Jake up, but he doesn't stop screaming. "What in the world is wrong with him?" she demands, staring at Sam expectantly like he actually has an answer for that.

"I don't know," he says dully. "Maybe he misses his mother."

"Sam, get up." His mom is giving him a look that he hasn't seen since he was a lot younger. "He needs a bottle, and you need to get your butt out of that bed."

He tries really hard to feel bad about the fact that someone else had to come into his room and determine that his son is hungry, but it's too hard. He sits up, though, mostly because he doesn't trust his mom not to slap him or something if he doesn't do as she says. Anyway, he knows he's an asshole or something, so he gets up and goes to the kitchen to make a bottle.

His sister and one of her friends from down the street are at the kitchen putting toppings on a pizza they're apparently making. He ignores them and just goes to the cabinet to get the formula so that he can make the bottle. He's measuring out the scoops when Stacy decides that she doesn't like being ignored.

"Where's Mom? She's supposed to help us with the oven."

Sam shrugs and fills the bottle with water so that he can shake it up. "She's with Jake."

"Then you help us."

"I don't have time." It's a lie, and Stacy's not dumb. She knows it's not true, and she calls him on it.

"Why not? You don't do anything else."

Sometimes he really misses the sweet little five year old who used to give him hugs and butterfly kisses. She's got a really smart mouth now, and he kind of blames his parents because she gets away with tons more stuff than he ever did. His brother's somewhere in between- he always butts heads with their dad, but he hardly ever gets in real trouble with their mom. It's not really fair, and maybe that's what annoys Sam the most.

He decides not tell Stacy to fuck off, though, because even though she can be a brat, she's still only ten years old. So instead of fighting with her, he just turns the oven on, grabs the pizza from the table and sticks it in.

"How long does it cook for?"

He shrugs because he doesn't know or care too much either way. As long as they don't burn down the house, he really isn't that concerned about how their pizza turns out. He ignores them again and goes back to his room with the bottle. Jake's still crying, but he's not screaming anymore now that someone's actually touching him. Sam starts to hand his mom the bottle, but she turns the tables and hands him the baby.

"Stop ignoring him," and she's not playing around.

She leaves them alone, and Sam tries really hard to not start his own screaming as he climbs back onto his bed and leans against the pillows with Jake in his arms. He _is _hungry, and he starts sucking the formula down almost immediately. It shuts him up, though, and within seconds, Sam can't hear anything except the sound of him eating. At first Jake's almost going cross-eyed staring at the bottle that's currently in his mouth, but he gets bored with that fast enough and moves his eyes up to stare at Sam instead.

"Sorry," Sam apologizes softly because he does actually feel a little bad. "I know I'm shitty at this." He probably shouldn't be cussing to his child, but he's five months old and never even acts like he hears anything anyway. He's totally going to be one of those kids with selective hearing or whatever they call it- the ones who only hear what they want to hear and ignore everything else. Stacy was like that some when she was little, and it used to drive everyone crazy.

He feels like he's in some kind of daze, like he's been walking around like that for weeks now and can't snap out of it. This baby is helpless and literally can't do anything for himself, but Sam feels like he's helpless, too, because no matter what he does, he knows he's going to mess up. It's the story of his life. He loses everything, and the stuff that he doesn't lose always ends up messed up. It's not fair to Jake because sooner or later, he's going to be the one paying the price when Sam finally screws it up so badly that he can't fix it.

But he doesn't _want _to screw up. He wants to be a good dad and give Jake a good life, but he knows he's going to mess it up eventually. And it _sucks. _He loves this little guy more than _anything_, but it scares him because he knows he's not smart enough or strong enough to do this. And eventually, everyone else is gonna know it, too, even if he's sure they all probably suspect it anyway.

He was so scared when Julia told him she was pregnant, but he still told her everything would be okay. And when she was crying and told him she didn't know if she wanted to go through with it, he held her hand and told her that they could do it together and that he would always be there for her, and that he would never leave her alone. Together. They could do it _together. _But she left him alone, and now there's no together- there's just him. And he can't do this.

And he's way more scared now than he was last year looking at two lines on a pregnancy test. He's never been this scared in his life.

…

…

…

A/N: I promised this to some of you guys awhile ago. It's going to make up the pasts and in betweens that fit into the You Won't Find Heart and Soul in the Stars/Another Day in Paradise universe. I was mostly just writing this for myself, but I know a couple of people have asked to read it, so I'll put it out there.

It will have both Sam and Quinn parts, but obviously most of this will take place before they got back together, so there won't be much actual Fabrevans. Eventually, though, I might get to the parts that happened in between the two stories- the wedding/babies, etc. I just have to write Fabrevans now to keep me from going crazy at what has actually happened on Glee in Season 5...

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!


	2. Hidden

**PUZZLE PIECES**

**Hidden**

…

…

…

She was born to be at Yale.

By her sophomore year, she is completely convinced of this. Yale is what Ohio could never be. It's filled with culture and diversity and class that the rednecks of Lima could never even begin to understand. And this is her home. It's where she belongs.

She's given up on the theatre thing, and she really can't even remember why she ever thought it was a good idea in the first place. She likes performing to an extent, but it's never been her dream. And she finds out quickly enough that her enjoyment lies in the group atmosphere, not in the solo atmosphere. It's not for her, but art is. She's not an artist by any means, but she loves to look at it and learn about it. The history of it is what fascinates her, and she changes her major against her mother's will.

"Quinny, I just think art history sounds a bit impractical, don't you? What are you going to _do _with it?"

Quinn ignores her. It's no more impractical than theatre, and her mother had no problem with that- at least none that she expressed. And she doesn't know what she'll do with it, but she'll cross that bridge when she comes to it. She's not interested in planning her entire future when everything she needs in life is right here, right now.

She fits in perfectly here. Maybe it makes her a snob or, at the very least, pretentious, but these people are just like her. She's always felt like she was smarter than most of her peers, and she's definitely felt more worldly than them. Maybe part of it is because she _is _worldly- at least by Lima standards. She was always the only one of her friends who had ever been to Europe, who had ever seen the Mona Lisa in person or taken a ride on the London Eye. But everyone at Yale has seen the world. Vacations to London and Paris are as normal as trips to King's Island were for her Lima friends. These are her people.

And she loves it.

…

She lives with the same roommate that she was randomly paired with freshman year. She and Paige get along just fine, and there was really no point in changing anything when the time came for new room assignments. Paige is a political science major from San Francisco. She's basically the epitome of the typical West Coast liberal upbringing with lesbian parents and an anonymous sperm donor father. She's almost a cliché of feminism, and her minor in women's lit just adds to it. But she's nice and clean, and she and Quinn have never really had any problems. In fact, Quinn buys into some of the pseudo-feminism that she wouldn't be able to escape even if she tried. She isn't really one for politics, though, so she avoids those conversations as much as possible. She's from a very conservative Republican family, but she really doesn't know which way she herself swings in that area. Yale is overwhelmingly liberal for the most part, and the more she's exposed to those opinions, the more they make sense. Still, she mostly avoids politics if she can because she's not that interested.

Paige doesn't care that she's not opinionated, probably because she's opinionated enough for both of them. She still talks to her about that sort of stuff, though, and Quinn sometimes gets the feeling that she's trying to educate her, but not necessarily sway her. And honestly, she appreciates it because Paige makes a lot more sense than Glen Beck does, which is what she's grown up listening to. She likes to think about how displeased her father would be that she's swaying even slightly to the left, but the chances of him ever finding out aren't that high. He signs her tuition checks, and the fact that the bursar's office sends her a cleared bill each semester is the only way she even really knows that he's alive. He certainly doesn't ever contact her, and she's sure as hell doesn't contact him. She has nothing to say to him, really for the rest of her life as far as she's concerned. She doesn't feel guilty for taking his money, either, because he owes it to her. For being a horrible person and a piece of shit father.

That's the best part about Yale. Nobody here knows her past. Nobody looks at her and automatically knows that she has daddy issues born from the fact that he kicked her out when she was fifteen and pregnant and never once tried to make amends for it. Everyone here has daddy issues of some sort, so everyone just assumes hers are the same- that she had a mostly absentee father who threw money at her because he couldn't be bothered to spend any time with her. It's not really the case with her, but she lets them think that. The less they know about her past, the better.

No one here knows that she had a baby at sixteen, not even Paige. They don't know that there's a toddler in New York who looks just like her being raised by a woman who gave birth to a girl Quinn used to torment. They don't need to know that. They don't need to know about the baby, and they don't need to know that she used to be a mean girl. She's not anymore, not really. There's no reason to be a mean girl here because it's juvenile and stupid. If she doesn't like someone, she just ignores them. The mean girl stigma is one she was never fully able to escape in Lima, no matter how much she changed. It was still with her, and if she stayed anywhere in that vicinity, it would be with her forever.

The only part of her past that people know about is the car accident. She used it as the basis of an English essay last year, and the teacher praised her for her bravery and ability to overcome. So she told other people, let it drop into random conversations that she was paralyzed at one point. People were enamored, and if she talks about it now, people are still enamored. Being wordly or wealthy means nothing here- but being _paralyzed _is a very big deal.

She really doesn't feel as bad as she probably should for exploiting it.

…

She doesn't have a boyfriend.

She is _casually _seeing a first year grad student named Benjamin. By casually, she means he refuses to put a label on it, and she's turned on enough by his nonchalant attitude that she goes along with it. They've been seeing each other for almost three months, and they've been having sex for over two. The old Quinn would demand that he make it official and commit, but the Yale Quinn is too progressive to care that much.

His father is a senior vice-president of some software company that Quinn doesn't really care about. What she cares about is that he's rich- very rich. Benjamin is the type who pretends to hate his wealth, which is funny because he doesn't hesitate at all to spend it. But he bitches about it to anyone who will listen. He says money is the root of all evil, and that the diminishing middle class is a major sign toward the decline of the American economic system. It's all a bunch of bullshit, of course, because he drives a $90,000 Porsche and has a summer house in the Hamptons. He volunteers once a month at the soup kitchen because he's so far removed from reality that he thinks handing out a meal to the homeless once every four weeks somehow makes up for the fact that he could sell his car and literally buy a house for a family of four. Quinn never calls him on it, though, mostly because it's not worth it and because he wouldn't understand even if he tried. She doesn't pretend to understand, either, but she's at least been exposed to homelessness a little more closely- close enough that she knows how very little can go a long way.

But that's in her past. And while she has empathy, she knows there's no point in trying to change a man who was literally born with a silver spoon in his mouth. So she might as well benefit from it. She enjoys his vacation house and his car, and he makes vague promises about taking her to Barbados over summer break. He has a condo off-campus, and she spends a good amount of time over there. It makes her feel grown up and adult to be sleeping with a man who owns his own place.

Benjamin himself is fine. He's a little bit pompous, but so is everyone else around here. He isn't a total asshole or anything, and he's occasionally funny. He's _very _attractive, though, and she likes the way she feels when she's out in public with him- like people are watching her and are jealous. She likes people to be jealous of her, and even though she would never admit that out loud, she has no problem admitting it to herself. It makes her feel good to be envied, and it always has. In high school, she was that girl- the one all the boys wanted and the one all the girls wanted to be. Except, of course, for those times when she wasn't. But she prefers not to remember those times.

She never has to remember them now, and that's the best part of Yale.

…

Yale parties are nothing like the parties she used to go to after football games in Lima. Those were always just a bunch of drunken idiots hanging out in somebody's basement while their parents were either gone or were just looking the other way. Yale parties aren't like that, though. There are still more than enough drunken idiots, but nobody's drinking disgusting Natural Ice or whatever the hell it is that used to be so prevalent at McKinley parties. At Yale parties, everybody drinks expensive foreign beer and top shelf liquor. Money seems to be everyone's favorite thing here, and the parties are no exception.

She doesn't drink a lot, though. She has a low tolerance, and it only took a couple of times getting wasted last year before she woke up in a stranger's bed without her underwear. She's still not entirely sure of what happened, and she probably doesn't want to know. It knocked enough sense into her to stop being an idiot, though. So now she never gets drunk- she always has one drink that she sips on all night. It helps her fit in, but it keeps her from being dumb and making bad choices.

Benjamin drags her to a party at one of his friends' house. They're both working toward their MBA, and Quinn knows him by face but not really by anything else. His name is Greg, and he lives off-campus in a little split level. The party is full, and Quinn can't tell if most of the people here are grad students or if there's a good mix. It doesn't matter, though- she doesn't mind hanging out with older people.

Ben gets them each a beer from the kitchen, and he pulls her down into his lap when he sits down at a card game that's already in progress. "Are you going to be my good luck charm?" He whispers in her ear, and his and slides low around her hip.

Quinn turns her head just slightly and smiles at him, nodding before she takes a sip from her bottle. He wants her to be a trophy right now, and she knows it. He likes to show her off as much as she likes to do the same with him. She's not dumb- far from it. Her looks are a very positive asset, and she knows how to use them. She also knows when other people want to use them, too, and she generally minds less than she probably should.

Ben gets dealt into the next hand, and they're playing some version of poker that she's not really familiar with. She knows the basics, but she's definitely no expert. She can tell that Benjamin has a good hand, though, but she doesn't let it show at all on her face. If there's one thing she's perfect at, it's a poker face. Of course, she never uses it for cards or for gambling, but if she wanted to, she could be a master. She prides herself on the fact that nobody has ever really been able to read her. She thinks it speaks very highly of her ability to keep herself closed off and keep people from knowing what she's feeling.

She perfected it a long time ago.

He ends up winning $600 right off the bat. Of course, that's pocket change to him, so he's not very impressed. He does kiss her cheek, though, and say, "Good job," as a thanks for her good luck charm skills.

The whole night is spent at the poker table. It's boring, but Quinn doesn't mind that much. She gets Ben another beer each time he drains one, and after his fourth, she doesn't stop him when he starts running one hand up the inside of her thigh while the other one holds his card and places his bets. He's on a winning streak, and even if the money means absolutely nothing to him, he's still a man, so he likes winning regardless. She knows it makes him feel like he's somehow superior to the other guys, and she knows that's a huge ego boost. He starts getting a little jackassy toward some of his friends, but that's pretty normal with how guys talk to each other when they're all slightly intoxicated and competing over something.

Eventually, he loses a hand, but he doesn't really seem to care that much. He's too distracted by whatever his hand is doing under the table. He's not being totally _obscene, _but he's got her skirt pulled up pretty high and his fingers are drawing all kinds of shapeless things all over her thigh.

"God, you look hot." His mouth is right by her ear, and it makes her shiver a little bit. He's staring over her shoulder, and she knows he's looking down her dress. She doesn't mind, though. "Can I do you in the bathroom?"

She doesn't think anyone else can hear him, and nobody's paying attention anyway. So she nods just a tiny bit, and he squeezes her leg before she pulls her skirt down inconspicuously. There's nothing inconspicuous about the way they both get up and abandon the game at the same time, and she's a hundred percent sure everybody at the table knows where they're going.

She doesn't really care that much, though, which probably says more about the person she's become than anything else does.

…

Quinn has always been smart. Growing up, Frannie was always the "pretty one" and Quinn was always the "smart one." Various people put varying degrees of importance on each of those titles. Plenty of people told her that being smart would take her a long way in life, and she was praised for good grades and good behavior. But she was always envious. She always wanted to be the pretty one because the pretty one was the one who got all of the attention. The pretty one was the one who made people sit up and take notice. The smart one always just bled into the background somewhere, and she hated being in the background.

So obviously when she became both the pretty one _and _the smart one, she was very pleased with herself.

Frannie's still beautiful, of course- completely classical and gorgeous. But she's getting older, and she doesn't have the same appeal that Quinn does anymore. Quinn knows it, too, and she loves it. But Frannie claims she doesn't care that her beauty is starting to fade because she says she has everything she needs in life. That means she has a man and two perfect little daughters that she can flaunt around.

Frannie's never worked. She got married right out of college and moved to Florida with her orthodontist husband, and she got pregnant within two months. She has two little girls now. Audrey is three, and Madeline is ten months. Quinn's only seen the baby once, and she's nearly positive that if Audrey ran into her on the street, she wouldn't recognize her at all and have no concept of who she is or that she's her aunt. Quinn and her sister just aren't close, and they don't really pretend to be. Still, they're family, and they're both slightly more sane than their parents, so they do make a habit of at least attempting conversations every once in awhile.

Quinn's in her room studying for her French exam when Frannie calls her and says she has a big announcement.

"You're already pregnant again?" Quinn's no expert, but she's pretty sure most people like to wait at least a year between pregnancies if at all possible.

But that's not what it is. "No! We're building a new house!"

Quinn's not sure why she's so excited. She already lives in some giant house that's literally three miles from the ocean. But apparently it's a big deal, so she tries to act at least semi-interested. "Oh, that's nice."

Frannie either doesn't notice her disinterest or just doesn't care because she keeps talking. "We found some amazing land that's right outside of the city line, and we're going to be able to build much bigger than what we have now."

Quinn rolls her eyes, mostly because her sister doesn't _need _a bigger house. The house she has now is already too big for four people- two of whom are very small. But whatever. It's really not her business or concern. So she just puts back on her fake voice and tells her how great that is.

It's not really great at all, but who cares?

…

Contrary to what people would like you to believe, high school friends are not forever.

Quinn is finding this out very quickly. She's only in her second year of college, and she's already lost touch with basically everyone. She doesn't speak to anyone on a regular basis, and the most she really converses with anyone might be to respond to a random group text she gets out of nowhere. She might as well delete her Facebook because she never gets on there, and the last time she paid any attention to her high school friends was to check in and see what Tina and Sam and all those guys ended up doing after graduation.

It's not that she doesn't like her high school friends- it's just that she's not in high school anymore and doesn't pretend to be. She's moved on, and she has new friends. She doesn't think friendship should require a ton of effort, and honestly, she'd rather just forget Ohio altogether if possible. That's her past, not her present and definitely not her future. She has no desire to go back there for any extended amount of time, and that includes summer vacation. She stayed in Connecticut last year and plans to the same this year. Ben's also mentioned traveling, and she would love to join him. Anywhere he could take her would be infinitely better than Lima.

She's already made up her mind that she's never going back. She's worked her entire life to get out of Ohio, and now that she's finally managed it, she's gone for good. She'll go back for funerals and maybe a few weddings (depending on the person- she'd have to _really _like them). But that's it. She's not going back just to hang out or visit with people she knew as a child because now she's an adult, and she has other adult friends. She doesn't need to live in her past, and she doesn't want to because there are too many things there that she wants to forget. She doesn't need those people, and she doesn't need that place. She doesn't hold any kind of grudge toward them, she just doesn't _need _them anymore.

And if she has her way, she'll never need any of them again.

…

…

…

A/N: I know Quinn's part was A LOT shorter than Sam's first part was, but they are at vastly different life stages. Her next part should be more interesting. Thanks for reading!


	3. Cracked

**PUZZLE PIECES**

**Cracked**

…

…

…

Living at home is a nightmare.

He loves his family, but he's been away from them long enough to realize that he loves them a lot more when they aren't right under his nose all the time. This house is too small, and there are way too many people here. It's not like he has any choice, though. He has no money and no other place to go, so he's stuck unless he wants to take his kid and live under a bridge somewhere, and since that was once his biggest fear, he doesn't really see himself doing that any time soon.

His job sucks and he barely makes enough to cover diapers and baby formula, so there's no way he's anywhere close to being able to afford rent at his own place or anything. So for now (and for as far as he can see into the future), he's living in a glorified office space that barely has enough room for a bed and a crib. At least Jake's out of the Pack n Play finally, no thanks to him, though. His mom bought one secondhand off of a woman she works with, and it actually kind of looks like a girl crib, but he's not going to complain about it. She put some green and blue sheets in there, and Jake actually fits in it, so it's fine.

They've been here for over two months, and it feels like the slowest and the fastest two months ever. Jake's grown a lot, and he can almost crawl now. He sits up on his own and scoots, and Sam's mom keeps saying that he'll be crawling and walking really soon. It's exciting, but it all feels like it's going too fast, too. First he's crawling and walking, and then he'll be talking. It's crazy to think about.

Sam's still struggling. He has good days and bad days. He's trying, but sometimes even getting out of bed is still a hassle. He has a lot of nightmares, more than he's ever had before. He dreams about Julia a lot, but most of those dreams end with bad things happening, or sometimes he dreams about those bad things happening to Jake. He doesn't ever talk about it because he knows nobody would understand, and it's not like they could do anything anyway. Anyway, he's almost positive that his parents are like two steps away from making him see a shrink anyway, and that's the last thing he wants. So he just doesn't talk about it and tries not to think about it.

For what it's worth, his parents aren't pushing him too much. They say stuff here and there, but for the most part, they don't bug him if he's having a bad day and just can't do it. They take care of Jake a lot, and he knows it's not their responsibility, so he's grateful for it. But he knows that sometimes they get annoyed by it, too. He knows he needs to start doing more, and sometimes he does. But sometimes he just can't. And he knows sooner or later, they're going to get tired of doing it, and it's going to be up to him.

…

The novelty of having a baby in the house has definitely worn off for his brother and sister.

They make no secret of being annoyed when he cries or when they don't get enough attention because somebody has to take care of him. It's especially obvious in Stacy who is used to being the baby herself. Only she's not a baby anymore- she's ten, and she it'd be nice if she realized it and stopped pouting all the time. At first Sam felt kind of bad for her, but now he usually just gets annoyed, and sometimes he tells her about it.

She has a soccer game, and he's the only one who can take her because both of his parents are busy. She complains the whole time he's buckling Jake's seat into the car about how he's going to scream the whole time and bother everyone at the game. Sam ignores her for about two minutes until she just doesn't shut up. Then he snaps at her.

"Stop being a brat."

"I'm not a brat." And she seems seriously offended.

"Then stop acting like one." He tries to concentrate on the road, but it's hard because he's actually pissed and just over it.

"I don't understand why he has to go _everywhere! _All he does is cry." She's got her arms crossed, and she's totally about to pout.

"Because he's a baby, Stacy," and Sam doesn't care if he sounds hateful. "We can't just leave him at home to take care of himself. And maybe if you stopped being mean to him, he wouldn't cry all the time." That's a lie obviously because Jake clearly does not care if people are saying rude things about him, but it sounds nice anyway.

"I'm not mean to him." And she almost sounds hurt. Sam ignores her, though, because whatever.

"You need to be nice to him. He's your nephew, and he looks up to you." Sam realizes how very like his own parents he sounds when he gives almost the same speech that was given to him once upon a time when he complained about how annoying two tiny kids were.

Stacy, it turns out, doesn't really buy it any more than he did. "He doesn't even like me."

"That's not true. You're his aunt, he loves you."

Sam has no idea if Jake loves Stacy. The only things he knows for sure that Jake loves are food and sleep. If screaming every time she touches him is any indication of Jake's feelings about Stacy, love is probably a strong word. But he doesn't point that out.

All he knows is that he can't handle his siblings whining on top of everything else. He's way too stressed out to deal with it, and he doesn't have much patience. He normally tries to be really calm and rational with his brother and sister, but it's getting to the point where he just doesn't have the energy to put forth the effort.

He's so tired of _everything. _

…

He's waiting tables at this restaurant that one of guys in his parents' Sunday School manages. It's not fun at all, and the tips suck even worse than the ones he was bringing in at Olive Garden in college. But whatever, it's a job at least. But he hates it.

He has a really rough night with a ton of problems, and he's more than ready to get out of there by the time his shift ends. It's one of those nights where one thing goes wrong and then fifteen more things get screwed up, and it's just one mess after another. He's so over it, and by the time he's crawling into his car at the end of the night with $37 in his pocket, he's ready to scream.

It hits him while he's driving home that this is his future. This is all he has to look forward to because he's qualified to do exactly nothing else. That's never going to change, either, because it's not like he can go back to school, and nobody's going to hire him when he's barely got a high school diploma and nothing else to show except a few barely passing college credits that don't amount to anything at the end of the day.

He's stuck. He's the equivalent of a Lima Loser, except he's in Florence, Kentucky. He's not sure which is worse, but they both suck. And this is it. This is where he's probably going to be for the rest of his life, and his kid is going to grow up with nothing. And that's it. He can't change it because it is what it is. But it wasn't supposed to be like this. He promised Julia it _wouldn't _be like this when she was crying and worrying that they were too young to take care of a baby. He promised her that they would both stay in school and keep going until they had good jobs and then everything would be fine after a couple of years. But now that won't happen. He's destined to wait tables for the rest of his life, and he has no idea how he's supposed to raise a baby on $37.

But he doesn't know how to do anything else, either.

…

Sometimes he misses her so badly that he can't stand it.

For the most part, he just tries not to think about her because it hurts too much, but sometimes he can't help it. It's really bad when he forgets for a second and grabs his phone to call and tell her something. And then he remembers, and all he can do is stare at her name in his contact list and a phone number that's been disconnected for months now. And then he calls his voicemail and listens to the only message he keeps saved. It was sent on his birthday, and he's heard it so many times that he can recite it from memory, but he still listens just to hear her voice.

"_Hiiii… Jakey just woke up from his nap, and he wanted to call his daddy and say Happy Birthday and that he loves you and misses you, and he wants you to hurry up and come home_

_so you can play with him. And he says his mommy misses you, too, so if you want to come home and play with her, too, that's probably okay. And since I know you don't want to disappoint Jake, I know you're gonna hurry because we're here waiting. We made you a birthday cake, and we can't wait to eat it! So come home quick, please and thank you. I love you, bye!"_

She sent it to him while he was at work, and he saved it on a whim because she sounded so cute. And then less than a week later, everything was ruined. Six days after he heard that voicemail for the first time, he got the worst phone call of his life. And nothing's been the same since. It never will be, either, and he knows it.

Now all he has left is a half-empty bottle of perfume, a t-shirt, and a voicemail. He's also got a baby who stares at him with her eyes and occasionally gives him her smile. Sometimes it's comforting, and other times, it just makes things worse. That baby is never going to know her or remember her or have any idea how much she loved him. And Sam has no clue how he's supposed to explain it to him, either. How long is it going to take Jake to notice that he doesn't have a mother? And when he does, what is Sam supposed to say? He can't explain it because he doesn't understand it. He doesn't know why God thought it was a good idea to take a baby's mother away forever, and he doesn't know the answers to any of the other thousand questions Jake's eventually going to have.

All he knows right now is that there's a hole inside of him that's been there for a long time now and doesn't ever seem to get any smaller. He keeps waiting for that time when it gets better, but it never happens. And he's not really sure it ever will.

…

Jake is screaming.

He's literally screaming at the top of his lungs for no reason whatsoever- at least none that Sam can figure out. He's tried to feed him and rock him, and he's checked his diaper. He doesn't need any of it. But he won't stop screaming. And Sam's not sure how much more he can take.

"Please stop," he begs, bouncing Jake a little to get his attention.

But Jake just screams louder, and his face is so red that Sam's a little afraid he might explode. Tears are everywhere, and he's shrieking way too loud for something so little. They're in the bedroom floor because this is where they ended up for the diaper check, and Sam hasn't been able to make it anywhere else because he's too busy trying to calm him down. But nothing's working.

"Jake…" He hears his own voice, and it's close to whining. He feels desperate and exhausted, and he's so tired. "Jake, please…"

But Jake either doesn't hear him or doesn't care that he's close to having a nervous breakdown because he just shrieks even more loudly. Sam squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out some of the noise, but obviously that doesn't work. He has to physically stop himself from just shaking Jake until he shuts up, and as soon as the thought crosses his mind, he opens his eyes because he's horrified with himself.

He tries to be calm again. "Jake… Please stop crying." Jake screams at him in return, and _Sam _wants to cry. He doesn't know what to do, and he can't make it stop. He can't take this much longer, and he's going to crack if something doesn't happen soon.

He doesn't know what else to do. Nothing is working, and he can't _take _it anymore. His head is going to explode or something. He's so close to snapping that he can feel his nerves getting thinner and thinner. He bounces him a little more, really struggling against shaking him because it's almost a natural instinct at the moment. But he knows he needs help, so he squeezes his eyes closed again and tries once again to block the noise out as he focuses on making his _own _voice louder than his son's.

"Mom!" He screams even louder. "_Mom!"_

His mom actually comes running down the hall. She's obviously freaking out because she can hear Jake screaming and can hear Sam panicking. He feels a little bad for making her freak out, but he's just so glad to see her that he really doesn't care that much right now.

"What's wrong?" She's staring at them when he opens his eyes, and he's sure she's expecting to see blood or something.

"Please take him." Sam shakes his head because he feels helpless. "Just… _Please." _And he holds the baby up for her to take.

She looks at him like he's crazy for a second, but she takes Jake anyway. "What's wrong?" she asks again, moving Jake so that he's against her shoulder and now screaming right in her ear.

Sam doesn't know what to say, so he just shakes his head again. "I can't do it right now. Please get him out of here."

His mom gives him another look, but she takes Jake and leaves anyway. He's sure she's going to come back and chew him out later or something, but he doesn't care. He just needs Jake away from him because he can't take one more second of it right now.

When he's alone, he leans back against his bed and takes in a couple of shaky breaths. He doesn't know what his deal is, but he just can't do it right now. He just feels… _overwhelmed. _Or something. He wants to run away, like for real, but he can't because he's stuck. He's stuck, and this is it. This is his life forever now, and he's got to do it all by himself.

He's so _angry. _He wants to be mad at Julia because she should have fought harder or tried more or just done _something _so that she didn't just leave him all alone with a baby that he has no idea what to do with. But then he thinks about her, and he can't be mad at her because he loves her too much, and he'd give up every single thing he owns or will ever own if he could just have her back. Even just for like one day. He just wants to hold her hand and look at her eyes and hear her laugh. Just one more time. He'd give up anything.

But it doesn't matter because wishing like that never works. She's still gone, and she's not coming back. And he doesn't know who to blame or who to be mad at. He could blame the car that hit her or the motorcycle that pulled in front of her and made her swerve. He could blame the doctors who couldn't save her or her parents who decided there was no hope left. He wants to blame God really because, but he's too scared to say that out loud. But why would God let her die when she has a tiny little baby who needs her? And Sam needs her, too. Like way more than he could ever explain. Out of everything he's ever lost in his life, nothing has ever felt like this. Nothing has ever made him want to literally crawl into bed and never get out.

It's not fair. Why couldn't it have been him instead? Why couldn't he have been the one driving that day? If one of them had to go, it should have been him. Jake would be so much better off. Julia would know how to take care of him, and she was smart- she would have made something of herself and given him a much better life. But she's not here, and Jake's stuck with Sam. 

And Sam doesn't know how to do _any _it.

He's still sitting there in his bedroom floor when his mom finally comes back with Jake. He's quiet and asleep, and Sam doesn't know how she does that. It must be those mom genes that he doesn't have because Julia could always magically make Jake calm down, too. Sam clearly cannot. He watches his mom as she kisses the side of Jake's head and then lays him down carefully in his crib. When she turns back around, Sam fully expects her to go off on him.

But she doesn't.

Instead, she kneels down beside him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

And he's not sure what happens, but it's like some dam bursts inside of him or something because he just bursts into tears. He didn't even know he was close to crying, but it just happens, and he can't stop. His mom doesn't freak out or even seem surprised. She just sits all the way down and pulls him closer so that she can hug him.

He doesn't know what it is about being in his mom's arms that just makes him cry like a baby, but he does. Maybe it's because he knows she would never judge him, or maybe it's just because she was the one who used to hug him every time he cried when he was a kid of a skinned knee or a rough day at school. All he knows is that he can't stop, and it just gets worse when she tightens her arms around his neck.

"It's okay," she whispers, and it's not. She knows it's not okay, but she's trying to make him feel better, and he knows that. But he just shakes his head. "Everything's okay," and she rubs the back of his shoulder to calm him down.

It doesn't work, though, and he feels like he can't breathe. He still manages to choke out a sentence, though. "Momma, I can't do this…"

She keeps their heads together and says, "Yes, you can," in a voice that lets him know that she's upset but keeping it hidden for his sake.

But he knows it's not true, and it just makes him cry even more. "I don't know why this happened." His voice sounds all choppy and messed up, but he can't help it, since he can barely even breathe.

"Me, either."

"It's not fair," and he's whining, but he doesn't care. He feels like he's choking on his own sobs, but he just clings to his mom even tighter because she's always made him feel safe. He should probably be embarrassed, but he can't.

"I know it's not," and she runs a hand over his hair. "But honey, you have to keep going."

He doesn't want to keep going. He wants to just give up. He's so tired, and everything in his life is a mess. He's never going to feel any better, he can tell. It's just going to keep getting worse and worse, and one day, Jake's gonna wake up and realize what a shitty parent he is and hate him. If he doesn't hate him already, that is- he sure seems miserable enough every time Sam's around. He probably knows Julia's not there and knows he got screwed, and who can blame him? Sam sure as hell can't.

"Why did this happen?" His voice chokes in the middle of his sentence, but he manages to get it out, even though it just makes him cry even more.

"It doesn't make sense. But you just have to trust God's plan."

Sam wants to scream because he doesn't care about God's plan. And this is all God's fault anyway, so what does that say? "He doesn't have a plan." He's angry, and it's probably coming through. "He just lets bad things happen for no reason."

This isn't the first time Sam's ever doubted that God was really as great as church always pretends. He had a hard time keeping his faith when God let his family literally lose everything and be kicked out on the street a few years ago, but back then, he was still young enough to hold his tongue and not say it out loud. Now he really doesn't care because he's an adult, and he's allowed to have an opinion. Even if that opinion might send him straight to hell.

He can tell by the way his mom tenses up that that's not what she wants to hear from him. Religion is very important to her and to his dad, too. It's always been a big part of their life, and Sam's been in church three times a week his whole life. When they moved to Ohio and then when they moved to Kentucky, finding a church was the very first thing they did. Because church and God are supposed to come first before everything else. Sam was never allowed to do any activities that took place on Sunday because he had to go to church, and no matter what was going on, that's where they always were- every Sunday morning, every Sunday night, and every Wednesday night. So it's no big surprise that his mom's not thrilled with him basically accusing God of just ruining people's lives for no reason, but seriously. What else is he supposed to think?

She pulls back a little bit and holds his shoulders so that she can look at him. "God always knows what he's doing, even if we don't understand."

Sam just stares at her, trying really hard to calm down enough so that he can either prove her wrong or believe her. But he can't. And after three or four ragged breaths that are supposed to help him stop crying, a whole new wave of tears hits him, and he breaks down all over again.

"I just miss her…"

She hugs him again, pulling his head right back to her shoulder, and his whole body is shaking now because he's crying so hard. "I know, honey," and she's got her soothing voice on that he only ever hears her use with Jake anymore. "I know you do." She rocks him a little bit, just like she used to do when he was little and just like she does with Jake now. "I know it's not fair."

He keeps crying, sobbing really, because he can't stop. And it takes forever before he finally gets enough air in his lungs to choke out another sentence. "I wish it had been me…"

His mom doesn't ask what he means because she very obviously gets it the second he says it. And she wastes no time saying, "Sam, don't ever say that."

But it doesn't matter because he does wish it. Julia didn't deserve that, and Jake doesn't deserve it. Everyone would be so much better off, and he knows it. And he just doesn't understand why God had to take her instead of him. He would trade places with her in a heartbeat if he could. When he was begging and praying for four days while Julia was lying brain dead in a hospital, he offered the trade off a hundred times, but nothing ever happened. Julia's brain never started working again. She still died, and he's still here being as useless as he ever was. Only now he's not only screwing up his own life, he's screwing up his son's life, too.

"It's okay to be sad." It's the ninetieth time he's heard that over the past couple of months, and he really thinks it's bullshit. Of course it's okay to be sad. But what good does it do? You can cry all you want, but it's not going to change anything. He doesn't say any of that, though, and his mom just keeps on going. "But everything is going to be okay. I promise." She's rubbing his back, and he's still crying into her shoulder. "And I know you miss her so much, but you're always going to have her. Just look at that beautiful little boy."

And Sam can't force himself to say that looking at Jake is what makes him feel the worst.

…

He spends the next few months trying to get his life together.

He still has his moments, and sometimes he still feels like a giant failure. But he tries at least. He goes to work, and even though he doesn't make much money, he still manages to pay his own bills. Obviously he wouldn't be able to afford much if he wasn't living at home, but his parents are letting him stay there, and he's grateful. He's not paying rent or anything, but he buys food sometimes, and he always pays for everything of Jake's.

Jake learns how to crawl, and he's all over the house. He's stopped crying as much, and sometimes he even laughs. He trails Stacy everywhere, even though she constantly screams at him to leave her alone. He seems to find it amusing, though, because he's always smiling at her no matter how mad and loud she gets. It's like he knows he's annoying the shit out of her and is doing it on purpose. Maybe he is. He seems pretty smart.

He doesn't talk, though, but Sam's really not sure when all that's supposed to happen. He sort of remembers his siblings at least babbling more by that age and maybe saying like mama and dada and bye-bye. Jake doesn't have a mama, though, and he hasn't even come close to saying dada or anything similar. He grunts a lot, though, but that may just be gas. Oh, well. Maybe he's just a slow talker. Sam won't really complain because in his experience (Stacy), once a kid starts talking, they never shut up. He's just going to enjoy these last few months of quiet because he's sure they'll be gone soon enough.

He has to make a trip to Tennessee, though, because Jake has a five month follow-up with the doctor who treated him when he was in the hospital. He's not sure why he can't just take him to his current pediatrician in Kentucky, but apparently it's pretty important that he get checked out by the doctor who was taking care of him immediately following the accident. The appointment was made before they ever left, and when a nurse calls to remind him, Sam's pretty much forgotten all about it. But he takes two days off of work and books the cheapest hotel room he can find. His mom goes with him because she's much better at listening to doctors and stuff than he is.

It turns out to be pretty uneventful. The doctor checks Jake out and says he looks great and that all of his wounds seem to have healed over completely. He's got a tiny scar from the surgery, but it's barely even noticeable. He seems to be doing just fine apparently, and the doctor clears him and says he doesn't need to see him anymore. And that's basically it.

They go back to the hotel, and Jake's fussy and in desperate need of a nap. Sam asks his mom if she'll watch the baby while he goes and meets up with a friend for a couple of hours. She doesn't question him because it's kind of obvious that he _would _have friends here, but that's not what he's doing. He feels a little bit bad for lying to her, but he doesn't want her to know where he's really going.

The cemetery is 45 minutes away from the hotel, and he gets lost on the way. His phone's GPS gets him set, though, and after that, he finds it pretty easily. There aren't any other cars around, and he doesn't see anyone. That doesn't make him feel great because he already hates cemeteries as it is. He's definitely creeped out to be all alone in one. But seriously, it's still daylight outside, and he tells himself there's nothing to be scared of.

It still takes him ten minutes before he actually gets out of the car.

There's a lot of dread in his stomach, but he doesn't think it's all from being alone in a cemetery. He thinks a lot of it has to do with the fact that he hasn't been here since the day of the funeral, and he's not sure he's ready yet. But this might be his only chance, and he owes her this at least. So he gets out of the car and heads over to the general area where he remembers the funeral taking place. Once he's there, it's not hard to spot her stone.

It's big and new looking. It's made of white and gray marble, and her name is carved out in beautiful lettering across the top.

_Julia Anne Fischer_

_July 30, 1995 – April 26, 2015_

Nineteen. She was _nineteen. _It still blows his mind to think that. People aren't supposed to die before they've even made it out of their teens. That's crazy, and it shouldn't happen. But it does, and the proof is right in front of him.

There's no shortage of flowers and little gifts around her grave. The flowers are fresh, and he has no doubt that someone comes out here every few days and changes them. He's sure that her parents and her friends make sure that everything is always kept up perfectly. There's a Bible verse scripted at the bottom of her headstone. _Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God. _He reads it over and over again.

It's been five months since he was last here, and now he's not really sure what he's doing. He's just standing there staring at a stone and grass that still hasn't completely grown in. He feels dumb standing there, so he sits down. He doesn't think about getting dirty or anything, he just needs to feel closer to her. But when he sits down, he's still not close to her- he's just face to face with marble and her name spelled out and haunting him over two dates that are way too close together.

He should talk to her or something. That's what he always sees in movies. People come to cemeteries and sit down and talk to the person like they can hear them or can talk back. Maybe she can hear him- he has no idea. But he doesn't know what to say, and he feels dumb talking to a rock. He thought he would feel some kind of closure or something, like he would finally get to say goodbye, but no, he doesn't feel like that. He needed to say goodbye when she was still here, when her heart was still beating and her lungs were still breathing. But he didn't get a chance to because he wasn't allowed in her room. Her parents would never let him, and he never got to say _anything _to her. And now she's gone, and this is all that's left of her- a name, some dates, and a Bible verse. It's not fair, and he suddenly feels really irrationally angry.

"This is stupid." He says it out loud, and his voice sounds really quiet in this huge empty lot. "You're not here. I was going to tell you some stuff, but you're not here." He stares at her name, like it's suddenly going to make her appear. But it doesn't. He doesn't feel anything by being here- he just feels empty. It just makes it all the more real, like there's no chance of it just being a mistake or a really bad joke. There's her name, carved in stone, and whatever's left of her body is buried somewhere deep below him.

And he doesn't feel any better.

He still reaches underneath him into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He takes out one of Jake's 9 month pictures and looks at it. "My mom picked out his clothes," he mumbles, making an excuse for the fact that his son is dressed in suspenders and a bow tie. "But you would probably like it." He knows she's not here, but maybe she can hear him somehow. He doesn't know. But it's all he's got. "He can crawl now. And he's not as fat as he used to be. But he still eats a ton, and he's addicted to mashed potatoes." He smiles a little bit at that because Julia was also addicted to mashed potatoes and would eat them as an entire meal if she could. "But he hates everything green."

He looks back down at the picture for a second, and it's crazy how much Jake looks like her. He notices it all the time. Those eyes are identical, and every time he looks at him, he still sees Julia there. He doesn't say anything else. He just takes the picture and slides it under the edge of one of the little angel statues that are sitting at the bottom of her headstone. It hits him that someone will find it and know he's been here, but he doesn't care. He has a right to be here, whether anyone wants to acknowledge it or not.

"I love you," he whispers, and he doesn't realize that his voice is all but gone until he says it.

His eyes feel wet, and he doesn't want to cry, so he just reaches out and runs his fingers over the letters of her name before he finally gets up. He doesn't look back as he walks back to his car, just dusts himself off a little bit before he gets in and starts the engine.

He's glad he came here, but he doesn't know when he'll be back.

…

There are little things that he starts noticing, and he starts thinking that maybe something's not right.

Jake's almost total lack of babbling is kind of a red flag, but he looks on the Internet and sees all kinds of websites that say kids just start talking on their own time. It may be unusual, but it's not _unheard _of. He's doing everything else pretty normally, so he doesn't really think there's any kind of major delay or anything. But there are other things that he starts noticing, and it makes him a little uneasy.

It's almost impossible to get Jake's attention unless he's looking right at you. You can say his name over and over again, but he never turns around or responds. But that's not unusual, considering he never responds to any other noises, either. Stevie and Stacy are super loud, especially when they're fighting, but Jake never gives any indication that he hears them or that he's bothered. He can go to one of Stacy's soccer games and sleep through the entire thing, even though people are yelling and cheering all around him. He can sleep through _anything _really, which might be a good thing if it wasn't becoming super obvious that it's not really normal.

At first, he's too scared to point it out. He keeps waiting for it to change, like maybe something will magically happen, and Jake will just start talking one day and laugh about how he's been pretending all this time. Maybe he's some super genius or something, and he's just doing all of it on purpose. But that's not really likely, and it gets less likely all the time.

About a month before Jake's birthday, his mom brings it up. Stacy and Stevie are both at school, and it's just Sam and his parents at home with Jake. His dad's at home because the year's nearly over, and he has vacation that he has to use. They definitely can't afford to _go _on vacation, so he's just taking a few days off. They're just hanging out having a later than usual breakfast when his mom mentions it.

"I think maybe we should have the doctor check Jake's hearing."

Sam doesn't look up from the eggs that he's pushing around his plate. He's been trying to ignore it, so he doesn't really appreciate the fact that apparently not only have other people noticed, they've also decided it's glaring enough to actually bring up.

"Have you noticed how nonresponsive he is?"

Sam chooses not to answer that. He pushes a forkful of eggs into his mouth and ignores the way they suddenly taste like cardboard because his mouth is too dry to process food. He grabs his water and forces them down, not looking up at either of his parents.

His dad decides to cut in and give his two cents as well. "He should be talking by now. At least a little bit."

Sam wants to yell at them to mind their own business, but he doesn't. Instead, he just takes his plate and dumps the rest of it in the trash before he drops it in the sink. He can feel them both watching him, waiting on him to say something, so he says, "I'll mention it," before he grabs Jake from his play mat and takes him back to his room.

Once they're alone, he sits Jake up on the bed and sits down right in front of him. Jake grabs at Sam's shirt and uses it to pull himself into a standing position so that he can bounce on the bed and laugh. Sam helps steady him and smiles back at him because he's cute when he's playing like this. He should probably nip this whole jumping on the bed thing in the butt before it starts, but it's not like he's hurting anything. He weighs like 17 pounds- he can't break the bed. And Sam's watching him, so it's not like he can break anything else, either.

"Say something," Sam whispers, but Jake just giggles some more and looks away toward the wall while he continues bouncing. "Jake." Sam says his name, but he gets no response. "Jake," he tries again, this time with a firmer voice. Still nothing. "Jacob." Nothing.

There's something wrong.

…

Profound deafness.

Sam has never heard that term before in his life, and he has no idea what it means. He's sitting in the specialist's office with his parents, and the doctor starts using a bunch of terms that he's never heard before and doesn't understand. Jake's in the corner playing with some cars that are laid out in a play area. He has no idea what's going on, and he's not paying the least bit of attention to anything that's happening elsewhere.

"What does that mean exactly?" His dad's voice snaps Sam out of his daze, and he looks back at the doctor and waits for the answer. "He can't hear at all?"

"He seems to have less than three percent hearing in each ear. We'll have to do further testing to determine the exact percentages, but anything that low is considered profoundly deaf and generally means that the patient has no ability to hear normal decibels with the naked ear."

"Can it be fixed?" His dad's doing all the talking. Sam can't say anything because he can't even process what he's hearing, much less come up with any kind of coherent questions or responses.

"There are options that may help." The specialist is talking so formally, like this is no big deal or something. Like he's not sitting there telling them that this baby is _deaf. _"We can try to fit him with a hearing aid and see if it improves his hearing ability. And there are cochlear implants, which have a very good track record of helping children develop near normal verbal skills, especially when they are fitted at a prelingual age, which Jacob certainly is."

"What is that exactly?"

"It's a small device that's surgically implanted behind the ear. They drill a tiny hole through the bone and place the implant in a way that connects with the nerve endings of the ear. Then an external sound processor is fitted to the patient, which allows the cochlear implant to receive and process sound."

All Sam hears from that is that they drill a hole into a baby's head. He doesn't even comprehend the rest of it.

His dad, though, is apparently paying very close attention. "Is Jake a candidate for that?"

"Possibly." The doctor opens a file and looks at something. "The cause of his hearing loss is slightly concerning because it was due to a major accident. It's possible that the physical damage in his ears is more significant than we know right now. We'd have to do further testing. But if the physical damage is minimal, he would likely be a candidate. He's at the ideal age for implanting."

"And how much does that cost?"

"It depends on several factors. Generally, the average cost is between 60 and 70 thousand, but most insurances will cover at least part of the surgery."

Sam hears that. Seventy-thousand dollars. He can see from the corner of his eye that his parents also tense up at the price quote. They don't have that kind of money. Nowhere close. His mind can't even process that right now. It can't process anything.

He doesn't even notice that Jake has made his way back over until he hears him whimpering from the ground right in front of him. He bends down and picks him up, and Jake stops whimpering almost immediately and seems super content to just sit in his lap.

Sam holds him and doesn't hear the rest of the conversation going on around him. All he can do is stare at Jake and wonder what his life is going to be like. He's never going to be normal. He's going to be different for the rest of his life, and there's nothing Sam can do about it. He's supposed to be able to protect his kid, but he can't. He can't change any of this, and it's just one more thing that makes him feel like a failure.

And he has no idea what to do.

…

He shuts down.

He feels almost just like he did right after Julia died. He wants to just lock himself in his bedroom and be alone. He doesn't want to see anyone or talk to anyone. He just wants to be by himself and wallow in his own self-pity.

It's been three days since he first heard the term profoundly deaf, and he's no closer to being able to accept it than he was then. His whole life is a nightmare, and it seems like it just gets worse all the time. There's nothing he can do to fix this or make it better, and he doesn't know what he ever did to deserve all of these bad things. It's like he loses everything, and he's just ready to give up.

He can't deal with Jake, and his parents obviously realize this because they take him and don't bug Sam about the fact that he's totally shirking his parental duties. They keep him occupied and feed him and change his diaper, and they just leave Sam alone. They obviously tell his siblings to leave him alone, too, because for once, he doesn't have them barging in all the time complaining about something. Everybody just lets him be by himself, and no one bothers him.

He barely gets out of bed. He keeps calling into work, and he's probably lost his job by now, but he doesn't even care. He could work 80 hours a week, and he still wouldn't come close to being able to afford a seventy-thousand dollar operation that involves drilling a hole through his son's head and may or may not work.

It's not fair. Jake's so little- he didn't do anything to deserve this. His life is going to be hard enough as it is, now he's got something else to deal with. It's not fair, and Sam wants to hit something every time he thinks about it. What did he ever do to deserve all this?

He cries about it a lot. Not like sobbing messy cries or anything, but when he's lying in bed with nothing else to do but think about it, he almost always ends up in tears. He's so sick of everything, and he doesn't know what to do about any of it. A year ago when Jake was born, Sam was terrified and nervous of all the things that could go wrong, but he never imagined it would be like this. He never thought that by his first birthday, Julia would have been dead for almost eight months, that he would be back in Kentucky living with his parents, or that he would be listening to a doctor tell him that Jake is totally deaf.

He feels so helpless and so alone, and he's not sure he's ever going to feel any better.

He goes on for like two more days just lying around doing nothing. He doesn't eat and doesn't shower. He barely makes it up to pee, and then he just goes right back to bed. His mom brings Jake in a couple of times, but it must be pretty obvious that Sam has no intention of paying any attention to him because she never leaves him. She tries to make him get up and eat, but he has no appetite, and the thought of food really doesn't appeal to him. She still brings him stuff, though, snacks and water so he doesn't literally starve to death in his bedroom.

Eventually, though, his dad takes over, and from the second he comes in the room, it's obvious that he's not going to be as sympathetic as his mom is.

"You plan on getting out of bed any time soon?"

Sam doesn't look at him. He just shakes his head and keeps staring at the wall.

"Sam, get up," and his dad sounds totally serious, like he's definitely not going to listen to any argument. It's his _do it or else _voice, but for the first time in his life, Sam's not the least bit scared by it.

He doesn't even think twice about talking back. "Leave me alone."

His dad ignores him completely. "It's time to get up and stop wallowing in self-pity."

That is actually exactly what Sam's doing, but it still makes him irrationally pissed off to be called out on it, and something inside of him seems to snap. He sits up and glares at his dad. "I'm not wallowing."

"Yes, you are. And it's getting old."

"Leave me alone," he snaps again.

"Look. I know you feel like this is the last straw, but-"

And Sam can't help himself- he cuts in with all the bitterness and hatefulness that he's had bottled up inside for a long time. "You don't have a fucking _clue _how I feel!"

It's the very first time he's ever cussed in front of his dad, but he doesn't feel the least bit concerned about it. He accidentally cussed in front of his mom once when he was like fourteen, and she literally made him eat soap, so he's always been super careful not to slip ever since then. But he doesn't care now. He's an adult, and even if his dad still talks to him like a little kid, he's not. And he doesn't give a shit right now.

"My son," he says seriously, "is _deaf. _You don't know how that feels. You don't know what it feels like to be all alone because your kid's mom is lying dead in the ground somewhere! And you don't know how it feels to know that no matter how hard you try, you can't fix any of it!"

His dad doesn't say anything. He just stands there with this look on his face that is way too calm, and that kind of just pisses Sam off even more.

"And don't tell me how I _should _feel, either, because you have no idea! You didn't even want Jake in the first place! All you did was yell at me and tell me what an idiot I was and how I wouldn't be able to do this. So are you happy?! You were right! I can't do it!"

He's getting crazy now, just spewing whatever pops into his head. He knows he's pushing it and going too far, but he doesn't care. He's got a lot of pent up anger and resentment, and it just comes flooding out.

"But you don't get to judge me because you're not perfect, either. You couldn't even keep a roof over our heads, and you had to let a sixteen year old kid pay the bills!"

As soon as he says it, he shuts up. He knows right away that he's crossed a line, and to be completely honest, he doesn't even know where all of that came from. It doesn't have anything to do with anything, and it's like he's just trying to reach for anything he can to make somebody else feel as awful as he does. His dad doesn't deserve that, and he instantly feels horrible. But he's still so upset, too, and he doesn't know how to balance it.

His dad just looks at him for a really long moment, and Sam feels super guilty. There was no reason for him to say all that crap, and he knows it. It just makes him look petty and childish, and more than that, a lot of it was just really mean. But he doesn't know what to say, so he just sits there until his dad finally speaks.

"Are you finished?"

He doesn't sound pissed or anything, but that makes Sam more nervous than anything. His dad's always been the worst when he's really calm- _too _calm. But he still sits there and nods and keeps his mouth shut because the last thing he needs is to make things worse.

And then his dad surprises him and just sits down across from him on the bed. "I always knew you could do it." He's still really calm, but surprisingly, it's not that eerie kind of calm that usually comes right before he lays down the law. This one is almost… gentle. Or something. "I only yelled at you because I didn't want to see you messing up your life. I wanted you to go to college and have fun and just be a _kid. _So, yeah, the last thing I wanted for you was to _have _a kid. But I never doubted that you could do it. I always knew you could."

Sam wants to say something, but he doesn't really know what. So instead of trying to come up with something, he just lets his dad talk.

"I've watched you your whole life, and Sam, you can _do _anything. But your biggest problem has always been that you don't believe that. You never believe in yourself."

Sam kind of looks away because he knows that's at least partially true. He _does _have trouble with having faith in himself, but that's because he knows he's never been good at anything, and everything he tries always ends up getting ruined one way or another. He's just realistic.

"And you had to grow up much faster than most kids. But you're right- you were sixteen and taking care of your whole family. That's not something just anyone could do, but _you _could. And you did. And that right there was enough proof to know that you handle anything."

Part of Sam wants to cry, but he doesn't. He feels all cried out, and he doesn't want other people to see his tears anymore anyway. He still just sits there, though, mostly because he doesn't have a clue what to say.

"So you can do this and whatever else life has to throw your way in the future. I know you can because you're a fighter no matter what, and you're a lot stronger than you've ever given yourself credit for." There's no trace of malice or resentment in his dad's voice. He sounds completely honest and sincere, but he's also very serious. "You can't do anything, though, if you just lay in bed all day and ignore the situation. You've got this amazing kid out there, and you're missing his life because you'd rather hide and think about all the things that are wrong with yours. That's not fair to Jake, and you know it."

"It's not fair that his mom's missing his life, either, but she is." Sam kind of snaps back before he means to, but he can't help being slightly defensive.

"No, it's not fair. And it sucks," his dad answers seriously. "But you can't change that, and it's time to deal with it and accept it. You're not doing anyone any favors by shutting yourself off and torturing yourself over something that's done and can't be changed. Julia died, and it wasn't fair, but she's _gone." _Sam hates the horrible stinging that hits him when he hears those words. His dad doesn't pause, though. "You're still here, though, and so is Jake. He needs you to be his dad because you're all he has left."

"Y'all are better at it than I am." He's making excuses now, but it's also the truth.

"Look. Your mom and I will help you any way we can, but Jake is _your _son. He's _your _responsibility. We're not going to raise your kid for you. And Sam, I love you, but _this," _and he motions toward Sam and the bed that they're both sitting on, "has got to stop. You can be sad, but this is getting selfish. You're ignoring your son because you're too caught up in how things are bad for _you. _But it's not about you anymore. It hasn't been since the second you decided that you were ready to have a baby. It's about him, and you don't get to be selfish anymore."

This is the worst pep talk ever. Sam doesn't feel even slightly better- if anything he feels worse because he knows his dad is right. But maybe that's the point. Maybe this isn't a pep talk- maybe it's more of a reality check or a guilt trip. If that's what it is, it's definitely working because all those things his dad is saying are true. And Sam knows it.

"What if I mess it up?" He's scared to ask the question because he's scared of possible it is.

But his dad just shrugs. "Then you're totally normal. Nobody's perfect. And _nobody _is a perfect parent. But you live, and you learn. You make mistakes, your kids make mistakes… But if you're there at the end of the day to hug your kids and tell them you love them, that's all that matters. Because the awesome thing about kids is that they don't see your mistakes- they only see you." He gives him a really pointed look, though. "But Jake's _not_ going to see if you if you keep hiding from him."

It hits home. And it's true. And Sam feels super guilty that his dad ever had to say all this, but he's still a kid, too, and maybe this is one of those mistakes his dad's talking about. And then his dad leans over and wraps both arms around him, hugging him, and Sam feels better. Almost like magic or something- like _maybe _things really aren't as terrible as he's making them out to be.

When his dad pulls back, he keeps both hands on Sam's shoulders and looks him right in the eye. "Now get up, take a shower, and start dealing with reality. Because this is your life now, and it's time to start facing it."

Sam nods, drawing in an only slightly shaky breath.

And for the first time in a long time, he thinks _maybe _he can actually do this.

…

…

…

A/N: Thanks for reading! I know there's a lot of angst, but it's a tough year for Sam


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